


my name is viktor nikiforov

by thishasbeencary



Series: soulmate aus [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Language Barrier, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 07:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10157384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishasbeencary/pseuds/thishasbeencary
Summary: Soulmates are telepathically linked to each other, but can only hear the other's thoughts when they're in close proximity. Viktor Nikiforov's soulmate isn't Russian, but Japanese, and he can't understand a single word that they think. Other than his name.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Have I mentioned that I LOVE soulmate aus?
> 
> @ myself: you have 160000 other ideas  
> @ myself: write another soulmate au
> 
> Basically, I love soulmate aus, and I love barriers that come from not speaking the same language, and I love Charles Xavier, and that inspired this telepathic language barrier soulmate au thing.
> 
> Anything in another language throughout the fic just translates to 'My name is Viktor Nikiforov' (-whispers- if you speak any of the like 3 languages featured and the translations are awful, pls tell me and I'll fix them that was 100% google translate I only know English, Latin, and Ancient Greek).
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @ [yoyoplisetsky](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/) (yoi side blog) or [cary-onmywaywardson](https://cary-onmywaywardson.tumblr.com/) to inspire me with new ideas. Or to discuss what I've already written. Or to scream about my sons. Or to just scream. Or to just quietly stalk me.

Viktor had always been very secretive toward the press of whether or not he’d heard any thoughts from his soulmate yet, because some of them pressed so hard (not so much the athletic side, but the modeling gigs and magazine spreads he did). It was a secret for a good reason – then, no one would blindly claim to have heard his thoughts, and he wouldn’t constantly be pressed about never having heard his soulmate at twenty-seven.

Sure, no one would necessarily be shocked or outraged, with such an internal tell, unless you directly mentioned your soulmate, no one would know. It was sort of relieving that it wasn’t something more physical. There were no marks, no visible claims on each other. Only shared thoughts, and once you were comfortable with each other, that was only really when you wanted it. A lot of people chose to keep their soulmate secret. But Viktor, so open about so many other parts of his life? It seemed shocking that this was the one thing that he was so secretive about.

There were rumors, of course. Some people assumed that he was hiding a secret soulmate in Russia, a whole family, even. One day, he’d been out with a female friend and her child to get lunch, and a fan had spotted him, and rumors went rampant that not only did Viktor have a secret soulmate, but also a secret _child_. It took only a week for him to kill that rumor, posting a picture of his friend with her family (including her husband) on his Instagram.

Some of his favorites were the fans that painted it as a big romantic disaster – Viktor had heard his soulmate once, but it was in the heat of a competition, and he wasn’t able to find her afterwards (they always assumed his soulmate was a woman. He didn’t know, it might be, but he… sort of usually assumed the opposite). Apparently, they’d written stories about this, all very romantic.

But, the true ones were the saddest. Viktor had never once heard his soulmate in twenty-seven years. There had been times where he’d had a thought so strange he thought it was his soulmate, but… It wasn’t. It never was. He was starting to not even care.

If he fell in love with someone else, no one would know they weren’t soulmates. Maybe Viktor didn’t _have_ a soulmate (it was a depressing thought, and not one that Viktor wanted to be true, but… it could be).

It was a terrible thought, and one that luckily went away a few years after he first had it, because his mind wasn’t eternally only his. It was a training day before the Sochi Grand Prix Final that Viktor heard his soulmate for the first time. He was practicing his step sequence, attuned only to Yakov’s orders (that’s right, he listened to Yakov sometimes. Yakov was his coach, and the best that Viktor could ask for, and in the middle of a competition, he needed to listen to his coach).

The fact that he was zoning everything else out was what made him stumble to a shaky stop when he heard a voice that wasn’t Yakov’s. He didn’t recognize the words, they were in _another language_ , but he stood frozen on the ice, feeling like his own thoughts had stopped. He couldn’t even hear Yakov screaming at him, demanding to know why he’d stopped. He could only wildly look through the rink, trying to find the source of the thoughts.

_What language was that?_

It wasn’t Russian, it definitely wasn’t Russian. Of course, there weren’t that many Russians at the rink at the moment, so if it was Russian, Viktor would… well, his options were basically just Yakov, and if someone who worked there happened to think in Russian. Not the best options.

Fuck, he couldn’t recognize the language, and it was still calmly (well, no, it was laced with anxiety, but it was trying to be calming. Were they another competitor?) going over something in his head. Viktor’s eyes scanned the rink before the last thought from his soulmate filtered through his mind: _?!?_ _Viktor Nikiforov?!?_ (the exclamation and question marks expressing… whatever else he was saying in that other language. Viktor would have to look into it tonight. Japanese, maybe?).

Oh! Wait, even better, Viktor had just learned about his soulmate. Sure, they spoke another language, and that was inconvenient, but Viktor had learned other languages before, that was okay. He’d figure that out. Much more information was available. His soulmate was not Russian, into figure skating (possibly even a competitor, when he and Yakov had been going over the competitors, he remembered that one was Japanese. What was his name?), and it was a man (at least, assuming from his voice. Maybe not, Viktor didn’t care).

Viktor _especially_ didn’t care because this meant that he _had a soulmate_. Sure, it changed absolutely nothing for most people, but it changed _everything_ for Viktor. His program for this season, Stay Close to Me, suddenly felt a whole lot stronger, because – It was now directly talking to his soulmate. For whatever reason, they were here, and they had to know that he was too.

Wherever and whoever his soulmate was (their thoughts were still drifting in and out of his head, not nearly as strong as before, and he wished he knew how to focus on them, to hold the thoughts close, to _find_ them), they existed. Maybe he should try to think in English, just in case they could understand English, and would recognize his voice, and would be able to find him from that. After all, they’d thought about his name, so –

Wait, his soulmate knew who he was.

Maybe they didn’t know that he was their soulmate, necessarily, but they knew his name, they were thinking about him. They were going to be here again, for the competition probably. Could he find them?

Was it going to be like all of those stories his fans made up about failed romantic rendezvous?

Would they recognize his voice through his thoughts? Should he shout it in every language that he knew, to try and get some sort of recognition?

_My name is Viktor Nikiforov._

_Меня зовут Виктор Никифоров._

_Je m'appelle Viktor Nikiforov._

Would they have heard any of those thoughts? Would they believe him? If they were one of the competitors at the rink now, they could see him, could hear – Oh, right. Yakov.

Viktor blinked himself out of his thoughts about his soulmate, looking up at his coach, who only wore an expression of shock at Viktor’s nonchalance when he looked back up. Viktor smiled brightly at his coach, whose shock turned to suspicion, but he skated through his steps again, and Yakov looked even more suspicious.

Because Viktor had done it right, he knew that. He’d done it better than he’d done it before.

As he skated off of the ice and past Yakov, he glanced behind him (even though no one here probably spoke Russian), and then back at his coach.

“They’re here.” Viktor spoke excitedly, and, predictably, Yakov just looked at him like he was crazy. “My soulmate, Yakov! They’re here! And they’re not Russian, and they know my name.”

“Vitya, who here wouldn’t know your name?” It was like Yakov was actively _trying_ to squash Viktor’s dreams, and his coach only rolled his eyes at the sad look that crossed Viktor’s face. “Don’t let this distract you while you’re skating.”

“Yakov, my program is _for them_. How would this distract me?”

How indeed.

Not in a bad way, clearly, because he skated the best that he’d ever done, shattering his world record again on the first day, and coming back ready to blow them all away again on the second day.

Until he heard his soulmate’s voice, in the back of his head, and he froze.

_Vicchan._

It sounded like they were _crying_ , and Viktor didn’t even know that thoughts could sound so sad. Sure, the name was mixed in with a bunch of other words that he didn’t recognize (he had spent some time on Google, though, and now knew that his soulmate was Japanese), but that name came up again and again, the thoughts cycling in a terrifying fit of sadness and anxiety.

At one particularly upset thought, something that felt almost _self-loathing_ , and made Viktor wish that he could magically understand Japanese, he _actually_ tripped over his own feet during practice, luckily catching himself before he hit the ice too hard, his hands only stinging from the cold. He looked up in shock to Yakov, who just shook his head, motioning for Viktor to step off of the ice.

That was probably for the better, so that he wouldn’t actually hurt himself.

Viktor stepped off the ice, hearing hushed murmurs from the rest of his competitors, from the few people watching his practice, from the announcers trying to figure out why _Viktor Nikiforov_ was stepping out of practice early.

His soulmate’s thoughts were still drifting in and out while Viktor googled what on earth that name was, and he blinked in surprise, because a few results down, he saw that it _was_ a name, and Japanese, and apparently closely related to Viktor.

His soulmate was this upset about him?

Viktor felt sort of incredibly crushed as he stepped out onto the ice for his free skate, but he still performed to his best, pulling off the gold medal easily. Yuuri Katsuki, the Japanese skater (was he his soulmate? Sure, Viktor couldn’t assume that every Japanese man at the competition was his soulmate, but could it be?) looked _awful_ on the ice, falling to last without a question, just looking dejected on and off the ice.

Asking him if he wanted a picture, he was trying to cheer Yuuri up.

_Viktor Nikiforov??_

He heard from his soulmate at the same moment that Yuuri turned, leaving, and Viktor blinked. Was Katsuki Yuuri his soulmate? Why did he look so upset to see him?

At the banquet, his ideas were confirmed.

_Be my coach, Viktor!_

The thought was maybe _more clear_ than the words spoken by the clearly drunk man hanging from Viktor, and he stared in awe at him, as he continued to grind his hips against Viktor’s.

His soulmate wanted him to be his coach (if he won this super drunk dance battle).

His soulmate, who had spent the past… who fucking knows how long at this point stripping and pole-dancing and making this the most memorable banquet Viktor had ever attended (which was impressive because Viktor had been attending these things for _years_ ) wanted Viktor to be his coach.

He had already been questioning where to go with the next season, already feeling like he didn’t have total inspiration, and here was his _soulmate_ , begging him to coach him. Like Viktor would say no. Yuuri had won that competition before he’d even pulled away from Viktor.

(And it was a shame that he had to pull away from Viktor, because Viktor was flushed red, and felt like he might be more drunk than Yuuri was. Drunk _on_ Yuuri, that was. Not on champagne. Had Viktor had any champagne? He honestly couldn’t even remember at this point. He hoped not, because if he forgot a single second of this night, his life would be so much worse than it could be).

It turned out, Viktor didn’t have to be the one to forget.

Katsuki Yuuri disappeared without a trace after that banquet, didn’t even try to _find_ Viktor before he left for home, even though Viktor knew that Yuuri had to be aware that they were soulmates at this point. From his skating, it had been clear that he was a fan, and at the banquet, he’d literally begged Viktor to go home with him, so why the hell had he utterly disappeared?

Viktor went back to St. Petersburg, feeling just as dejected as Yuuri had looked when he stepped off of the ice at the GPF. In an awful turn of fate, Yuuri didn’t show up to Worlds. Or any other competition, for that matter. After the Grand Prix Final, Katsuki Yuuri disappeared off of the face of the Earth, and Viktor hated it.

Well, the only logical explanation was that Yuuri didn’t remember the banquet, so Viktor couldn’t actually push that, could he? Could he still go to Hasetsu, to Yuuri’s family’s… hot springs (that’s what he called it, right?)? Could he coach Yuuri?

He let himself dwell in Russia for months, trying to think of new programs for the season, his mind repeatedly coming back to _love_ , as was made clear by the music choices he was internally warring between. While Eros seemed fitting for what had happened with Yuuri, Agape felt… calmer, more like what Viktor wanted from his soulmate, what everyone dreamed of for their soulmate.

It turned out that he didn’t have to choose, because after those months of agony, Viktor woke up to thousands of Twitter and Instagram notifications all linking him to the same video. A video of Katsuki Yuuri skating his free skate.

And, maybe, his jumps weren’t quite perfect, and he’d changed the composition to better suit himself as a skater, but… It was better than Viktor had ever performed it, it was performed like it was supposed to be. With love, with gentle step sequences, and powerful jumps, and emotions, and for fuck’s sake this man was his soulmate, and he was taking his dog to Japan.

… Sorry, Yakov.

When Viktor arrived in Hasetsu, he couldn’t hear Yuuri’s thoughts clearly, but he could hear the vague panic of… someone. So it had to be Yuuri. It was fading in and out, like Yuuri was trying to hide it from his soulmate, but why would he do that?

Well, maybe because he knew that his soulmate didn’t speak his language.

 _Shit_. Maybe he should have taught himself some Japanese in those months of dwelling in misery. Sure, he’d picked up enough to ask general questions (“How was your day?” “Which way to the Katsuki residence?” “Where is the bathroom?”) and enough for very simple conversation (“I’ll eat that.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “That was amazing!”), but…

Wait, he had one more phrase.

_私の名前はヴィクトル・ニキフォロフ._

And, god, he hoped he had it right, because he had spent hours on Google trying to get his name to translate, but it had been _so hard_. And then actually forcing himself to think it with all of the proper syllables pronounced?

Well, he was still pretty sure that he was wrong, but it was worth a try.

Yuuri appeared in the hot springs not long after Viktor had settled, and he had to bit his lip to hold back a laugh at the way his thoughts spun around at the sight of him. Yeah, okay, so Yuuri had definitely forgotten the banquet. Viktor could work with that.

He really wished he could understand Japanese, though, because as he stood up, Yuuri’s thoughts immediately went silent, and his eyes went wide, and a blush covered his cheeks, and Viktor breathed out.

 _My name is Viktor Nikiforov_.

Yuuri showed no sign of recognition, and Viktor could feel his heart breaking.

Weren’t you supposed to be able to be sure that your soulmate heard you if you thought about it hard enough?

When they began to train in Japan, Viktor tried to catch any sort of a sign that Yuuri knew who he was, but it was so hard. Either Yuuri didn’t know, or he purposely didn’t share anything with Viktor, because the only thoughts Viktor got were in Japanese.

And they were only about him if they were in a panicked tone, like Yuuri had forgotten he was there.

Did that mean he knew Viktor was the one that could hear? Or maybe he was pissed about whatever had happened in Sochi that had made him so upset with Viktor on the day of the free skates.

Yuri Plisetsky showing up only made him hear Yuuri _less_ , if that was possible.

So that was how training went in Japan, Viktor still hopelessly deprived of a soulmate. He was just glad that Yakov didn’t mention why he’d run off in any of the interviews that he’d been doing. Sure, he’d seen that there was fan speculation that maybe that was a possibility, but… well, no one seemed sure of why Viktor had chosen Yuuri.

Not even Yuuri. His first competition he skated at, he still worked so hard to please Viktor, to do what he’d wanted, even following his command to try to motivate the younger skaters, and Viktor _didn’t understand_. How could Yuuri clearly look up to him so much but not get the hint that Viktor was his soulmate when Viktor was literally screaming it at him whenever he had the chance.

Not out loud, but… No one would believe you if it was out loud.

The competitions went as expected, and Yuuri’s first qualifier for the Grand Prix was in China, where Viktor had the brilliant idea of: Oh, yeah, let me shatter my soulmate’s heart by claiming that I’ll leave him if he messes up even though I know he’s got extreme anxiety.

Yuuri’s tears were a horrifying sight, even though Viktor really should have seen it coming. He swallowed, looking away, trying to think of anything to say, but all he could come up with was: “Should I just kiss you?”

And with that, his bond with Yuuri _flared_ , and he got an influx of rapid-fire pissed off Japanese words, mixed in with his name.

Weakly, he tried to tell Yuuri: _My name is Viktor Nikiforov. It’s me. I’m your soulmate._

But Yuuri didn’t listen, only begged Viktor to have faith in him, and then it was _Viktor’s_ heart that shattered, and he promised.

_My name is…_

Viktor froze, thinking that Yuuri was going to continue, but his thoughts cut off, and they had to return to the rink, for Yuuri to skate.

They both knew.

So why wouldn’t Yuuri just admit it to Viktor and let them live happily ever after together?

And then, the next day, Yuuri tried a quad flip in his free program, and _landed it_. Well, almost, at least. It wasn’t anywhere near the quad flips that Viktor had performed, but the message was still clear. Yuuri was _his_ , and he had made sure that the entire world knew that.

Viktor didn’t even think before pushing Yuuri onto the ice with a kiss, couldn’t think when he felt Yuuri kissing him back, not even when he heard the roar of the crowd. Not even when Yuuri just looked at him in shock, and he heard his soulmate’s voice repeating his name again and again.

Yuuri had to know, right? He was the only thing ever on Viktor’s mind. As they walked back to the hotel, hand in hand. As they kissed again in the safety of their room, as they realized the love they had for each other.

Yuuri _had_ to know that Viktor was his soulmate.

He said nothing.

Maybe it was whatever had left him so upset during the Grand Prix Final that held him back from mentioning it to Viktor. Maybe he didn’t want Viktor to be his soulmate.

It was when he had to leave Yuuri alone in Russia that he learned what that was all about. He came back to Japan, stressed for Makkachin and for Yuuri, and Yuuri’s sister shoved him in front of a table and demanded that he eat, sitting across from him, watching him with a look that was simultaneously so much like Yuuri and so different.

“His dog died when he was in Sochi, you know,” Mari finally spoke, and Viktor was a little confused by the topic she chose (but not terribly. After all, Makkachin’s life had briefly been in question, so similar feelings must have gone through Yuuri).

“I told him Makkachin was okay.”

“No, I know, that’s good, I’m not worried about him for tomorrow.” And Viktor was confused again, watching as Mari nonchalantly took a drink from the cup she’d laid out for herself. “You two are soulmates, right?”

Viktor looked at her, flabbergasted. “How did you – “

She shrugged. “Just seemed right. At the very least, you two were in love. His dog was named after you, Vicchan.”

And that’s when it clicked. “Vicchan. He… That’s what upset him so much in Sochi?”

“Thought about him enough for you to pick up, huh? Yeah. Yuuri was crushed, came home not long after that, hid away. That dog meant everything to him, as some sort of a tie to you, and just… Yuuri really loved him.”

“I thought he was upset with me.” Viktor whispered, only to be shocked by Mari’s laughter.

“What could _Viktor Nikiforov_ do that would upset my little brother?”

Mari walked away after that, and Viktor felt a weight lifted off of his chest. Poor Yuuri had lost his _dog_ and was upset about him.

Wait, that was adorable, Yuuri’d named his dog after him.

It still didn’t explain why he refused to just admit to himself _and_ Viktor that they were soulmates.

Viktor could hear a steady stream of Japanese and his name when he came to the airport to meet Yuuri, and his arms were shocking around the man before he had much time to think for himself.

“It’s like a marriage proposal.”

Yuuri’s arms only tightened around him more, and Viktor helplessly thought (begging that Yuuri would hear him, would accept it, would maybe kiss him): _My name is Viktor Nikiforov._

Yuuri didn’t react, and Viktor still held onto him.

And soon, they were leaving for Barcelona. Yuuri was much more comfortable with him. Comfortable enough, that, apparently, he would buy them _engagement rings_.

And then Viktor could hear his soulmate, and his heart felt like it was going to stop:

_My name is Katsuki Yuuri._

Clear as day, and perfect English, while the man in front of him opened the box with shaking hands, pulling out the rings that Viktor had just seen him buy, babbling about some pretense, but between the telepathy and the obvious action of giving Viktor a ring, they both knew what it meant.

_And we’re… soulmates._

Viktor smiled brightly, taking Yuuri’s ring, and copying the motion for him, while Yuuri turned red, only a few times daring to look up at Viktor, who took his hands afterward and brought them to his mouth in a kiss.

_I… didn’t believe it. I mean, I knew, because I could always hear you, but… I didn’t believe Viktor Nikiforov could be my soulmate._

Which just prompted Viktor to cup Yuuri’s face in his hands and bring him in for another, deep, happy kiss, one that he wished could drag on forever, but they had to go to dinner.

Dinner with everyone was great, and even behind his blush, Viktor could see that Yuuri was happy that they were getting married. Wow. Married, to Katsuki Yuuri. To his soulmate. Was he allowed to announce to the rest of the world what Yuuri was to him, because Viktor wanted to scream it in any language Yuuri would allow, let the whole world know.

“After the final, let’s end this.”

Viktor froze where he was sitting, felt tears dripping down his face, and felt _shock_. Because Yuuri’s thoughts were still in his head, because he could hear everything, but he didn’t understand.

Why couldn’t they speak the same language?

Why did he have to be so clueless about what Yuuri meant?

Instead of trying to figure it out, Viktor started crying, and _uselessly_ , Yuuri’s only comment was to bring up the tears. It really wasn’t Viktor’s fault when he snapped and pushed Yuuri’s hand away, when he ignored his soulmate’s questioning words and thoughts, when he curled into bed and selfishly brought the blanket only over his own body.

_My name is Viktor Nikiforov._

Viktor felt a sob in his throat, hoping that Yuuri was getting any of this.

_My name is Viktor Nikiforov, and Katsuki Yuuri is my soulmate, and he’s being a selfish idiot right now._

English. He had to keep thinking in English.

_And I want him to know that I love him and I’m still going to marry him._

He felt Yuuri climb into bed beside him, and wrap his arms around him, but Viktor didn’t stop.

_And I hope he was just talking about me being his coach, but I’m not quitting that either. I’m not quitting anything, I’m staying exactly as I am._

“Viktor – “ Yuuri tried to cut him off, clearly getting something (they said that they thoughts would come through clearer if you willed them too, especially with a  strong bond, or strong emotion).

_He said he wanted me to be myself, and that’s what I’m going to be. His coach, his fiancé, his soulmate. Even if he is a selfish person right now._

Viktor finally stopped shoving his thoughts at Yuuri, letting himself drift partially to sleep.

_Stay close to me._

It was Yuuri.

_I don’t want you to quit._

Viktor turned around to look at him, and Yuuri was crying too, and this was _awful._

“I’m sorry.”

They still had to talk, but it was better than nothing. Viktor released his hold on the blanket, and Yuuri pressed himself up against Viktor.

The next day, Yuuri skated more beautifully than he had before, and Viktor thought for sure that he was going to win.

Especially when he came off of the ice from his free skate. Yuuri was still wrapped in Viktor’s arms when Yuri Plisetsky finished, and they both waited for the scores in silence, Viktor’s lips soft against Yuuri’s forehead.

 _We can get married either way._ Viktor thought to him, and heard Yuuri let out a surprised gasp.

Yuuri stared at the scoreboard in disbelief when Yuri’s score was announced, but he didn’t look upset. He was silent for a moment before turning toward Viktor, his smile still bright enough. Still proud of himself. “Wow.” Yuuri spoke aloud, and Viktor laughed.

Because what other word was there to describe this?

What other word was there to describe Yuuri stepping off of the ice with a silver-medal-winning performance and begging Viktor to not give up on him?

What other word was there to describe stepping onto the ice with Yuuri to shocked gasps and screams of an audience, of skating with his soulmate?

Actually, there were a lot of words for that. None of them were out loud, but that didn’t matter.

_I swear to god if you drop me I’m going to kill you._

Viktor hadn’t even stepped onto the ice yet and Yuuri was already threatening him, while skating gracefully on his own. It wasn’t the first time his fiancé had performed his routine, and it was beautiful. They’d built it in as an exhibition early on, but this was the first time that they were going to do it together.

 _I haven’t dropped you in over a month._ Viktor thought, amused, as he stripped out of his Russian team jacket and made sure his laces were tight enough, his cue only a few more seconds away.

 _Still. Ready?_ Yuuri sounded nervous now, and Viktor smiled, stepping out onto the ice, hearing the whole rink go silent for a mere moment before it was louder than Viktor had ever heard (a rather impressive achievement, really, for a five-time world champion and fan favorite).

 _I love you._ It was when Yuuri caressed his face that Viktor got another clear thought, and a small smile came over Viktor’s, wishing he could lean in for a kiss, but that was definitely not part of their choreography.

 _You’re really coming back to skating?_ Why were they discussing that now? Yuuri was looking at him from across the rink with a  thoughtful expression, though, and Viktor knew he couldn’t just avoid the topic.

 _I’m going to try. I’ll still coach you, I already promised._ Viktor came closer to Yuuri again, they were almost done.

 _I know._ And then they struck their final pose, and Viktor couldn’t help but lean down to kiss Yuuri one more time on the ice, their arms around each other. It was met with the audience’s cheers and screams, and Yuuri wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss Viktor back.

 _Stay close to me and never leave, right?_ Yuuri laughed with his own thought, pulling away to look at Viktor with shining eyes.

_Wouldn’t dream of anything else._

“I love you.”

Spoken in their own languages, but they both knew those words by now. In any language, they would recognize those words from each other, out loud or internal. It didn’t matter what language they both spoke originally.

(When they were asked when they found out they were soulmates, language once again became an issue, because Viktor flushed red and admitted, “I kept aggressively thinking my name at him in every language I could think of in Sochi.”

And Yuuri looked at him, so incredibly confused.

“I only heard it in Russian and had no idea what you were saying so I ignored you. I didn’t really hear until you said it in Japan.”

“You ignored me for so long after that!” Viktor whined in shock, and the interviewer let them have this argument, because it would be good for the write-up.

“I didn’t believe that you were my soulmate.” Yuuri flushed red, staring at his lap.

“When did you believe?”

“When I started understanding when you were saying it in Russian.”

“I only said it in Russian once.”

“Viktor, half the time you throw your thoughts at me they’re in Russian. You only think you translate them. Or they’ll be some horrible hybrid between Russian and English. I may be learning the language, but I still can’t understand _that_.”

And, honestly, Viktor had never known.

But that did explain why so many of Yuuri’s thoughts to him were always in Japanese.

Thinking in another language was harder than he thought.)

**Author's Note:**

> So the basic premise is: When you are in close proximity with your soulmate, you can hear some of their thoughts. Their thoughts do not translate into your own language, so you better hope your soulmate thinks in your language. You think in your native language, so that's what your soulmate hears. You can force yourself to think in other languages, but chances are your soulmate probably knows your language. Plus, there's always the chance that you try another language and they can't speak that one either, and you've done it all for nothing. Or, even worse, that's not even a thought that they catch, and it was still for nothing. Without a strong bond or strong emotion, you're likely to just hear bits and pieces of your soulmate's thoughts. The only real way to "confirm" your soulmate is to recognize their voice. It's an intuitive thing, but it's pretty obvious for most people, because your soulmate does think in a distinct voice. You can learn to hear less of your soulmate's voice, but most don't bother. It's not like you hear all they're thinking to begin with, and a lot of people find the link comforting (or useful). There's no real taboo against never meeting your soulmate, since you could, in theory, keep it totally secret that you've met.
> 
> Thank you so much for your endless love on this and other fics (through kudos/comments/bookmarks, etc). I adore every single one and am so glad to hopefully bring a smile to your face <3


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